Wishlists: Imprévu (George/Gabrielle)

Author: tania_singsRecipient: wawwhiteTitle: ImprévuPairing: George/GabrielleRequest: George/Gabrielle - in point of fact, I do love youRating: GWord Count: 1082Summary: The ways in which George and Gabrielle suprised everyone.Author's Notes: More het! But these are characters I feel a bit closer to. Never thought of them together before though!I can't write accents without turning a story into a farce, so just read read Gabby's lines in a Frenchy frame of mind.

No one ever expected her to be the one to save him, but in point of fact she was.

The first spring and summer that Gabrielle spent with Fleur and Bill, helping her sister care for the newborn Victoire, were the seasons when she coaxed George Weasley, dead in all but name for a full year, back to life.

Perhaps it was because, when she first arrived, she didn't know enough English to understand when he ordered her to leave him alone. And by the time her language skills had improved, he'd stopped saying it.

Instead, he took her to his shop, and showed her the trick wands, the skivving snackboxes, and the pygmy puffs. On his own, his life's work seemed like so much fluff, hollow curiousities from another time. With a thirteen year old girl who had never seen anything like them before, his tricks became treasures again.

They set off fireworks over the Burrow, watching the gnomes scatter like Doomsday had come. They fed canary creams to the pigeons in Trafalger Square, ducking the cameras of the tourists eager to record the sudden and bizarre mutation. And the night Gabrielle dissolved a tonne-tongue toffee in Percy's evening cappucino, George laughed out loud for the first time in so long that it took him a moment to recognize the sound.

No one expected him to be the one to save her, but in point of fact he was.

The summer after Gabrielle turned fifteen, she went through a rite of passage previously unknown to the women of her family: the awkward phase.

Her hair, once so sleek and shiny, frizzed and matted, growing oily in the heat. Her skin burst into spots that none of her mother's home remedies could fade, and at an age when her sister had already been a blossoming beauty, Gabrielle was flat as a board with hips like those of a twelve year old boy.

But George greeted her with his usual warmth and affection, and none of the silent surprise and pity that she had come to expect from everyone who knew her sister. And when he found out that she was looking to make a bit of pocket money over the summer, he had the perfect solution.

Gabrielle discovered that she had a knack for the Wheezes that astounded her. She was able to breed spotted pygmy puffs, which she nicknamed 'the gabbies" due to her own unfortunate complexion. She helped in the development of the sweating sweeties, and the edible bogies (repulse your mates!) were entirely her idea.

In fact, she was so immersed in George's business, so enthralled by this new side of herself, and so honored by the faith her brother-in-law had placed in her, that she was stunned by a photo of herself that appeared in a Daily Prophet article about young enterpreneurs.

Without her even noticing, her awkward phase had most assuredly come to an end.

No one ever expected him to hurt her, but in point of fact he did.

"Of course I'm serious! Why shouldn't I marry her?"

Why indeed?

"Because you don't love her! I know you don't. You're doing this because of Fred, because she was Fred's girl and when she started dating other people, it killed you. You don't want her for yourself; you're just putting her in stasis for your brother."

It was true. Just because it wasn't the whole truth didn't mean it wasn't true.

"What the hell do you know about love? A little kid like you--"

"I'm an adult--"

"You're seventeen! Just because you're of age doesn't make you an adult. Angelina and me, we've fought wars! We've lost people. We know a bit about the world--"

"And I don't?"

Silence.

"Don't marry her. George. George, please! For me. I can't watch you hurt yourself like this; I can't stand it. Even if you don't care about yourself, call off this wedding for me."

"Gabrielle..."

"Oui?"

"You need to leave right now."

No one expected her to hurt him, but in point of fact she did.

His letters were returned unopened, and his firecalls went unanswered. Fleur pleaded with her to talk to him, but Gabrielle made it clear to her confused and distaught sister that any mention of George Weasley was a surefire way to end a conversation. She spent his wedding day crying in darkness, and the morning she turned on the lights.

She put aside her plans for the teakettle that whistled show tunes, the Wheeze she never even got a chance to show him, and turned her attention solely to her reflection in the mirror.

Slowly, she learned how to make a smile look warmly sincere, even if she felt nothing but cold inside. She discovered, with the cold detachment of a scientist, how to make her eyes dance on command and her glances promise everything and nothing. She learned how to be a Veela instead of little Gabrielle. And she unleashed all this new knowledge on the captain of Puddlemere United.

It was a Veela that stood beside Roger Davies at their engagement supper, radiant in a long blue dress and a matching blue diamond. It was a Veela that laughed at his poor jokes, making a joyful sound that sent shivers of desire down the spines of every man present. And it was a Veela that turned a disinterested, disdainful gaze on the uninvited man who appeared near the end of the night.

But it was Gabrielle who cried out when he held up his left hand to show her the absence of the silver band that never should have been there at all. And it was Gabrielle who ran to George in full view of all the guests, to kiss the tears from his face. It was Gabrielle who felt warm again for the first time in years, wrapped in his arms. And it was Gabrielle who spoke.